Somewhere Only We Know
by RennFlight
Summary: In times of great joy and of great sadness, Rose and the Doctor knew of only one place where they could just be themselves. Not the stuff of legends, not saviours of the universe; just themselves, and this was that place. It was somewhere only they knew.
1. Everybody Lives!

**Somewhere Only We Know**

"This is my kind of perfect," Rose comments, grinning at him over her shoulder as they stroll along the path, which winds through a tangled grove of weeping willow-like trees, with delicate, bell-shaped blue flowers dangling from the branches. The Doctor picks one as he passes it by, then hands it to Rose, who cups it gently and smiles even more brilliantly at him, her wide brown eyes filled with delight at the scene.

The follow the trail, twigs crunching beneath their feet, light green leaves around them forming a sweetly-scented tunnel. Rose laughs and skips along, and the Doctor can't help but beam back, her happiness shining on him like the sunlight which gently filters through the trees to dapple the pair. It takes some time of walking like this, in silence but for the occasional trill of joy Rose emits as she encounters some new flower or bird, but eventually they reach the destination the Doctor had in mind, and all previous thoughts of 'perfection' flee Rose's mind; "I was wrong," she breaths, her infectious grin somehow growing even wider. "_This _is perfection." By this point, both their smiles are 'ear-splittingly' wide, which is a saying the Doctor isn't sure this reincarnation appriciates, as it draws unneccessary attention to his over-large ears.

They're standing at the edge of the path, where the trees open up onto a sun-dazzled meadow with grass of the brightest emerald hue, dotted generously with multi-colored wildflowers, and a clear azure sky above. The circular meadow is divided by a cheerfully babbling brook, which is fed from a small, round pond with blue-green waters of the deepest shade. The sandy bottom would be visible if it weren't for the bubbles created by the force of a small waterfall, which cascades down a sparkling white stone cliff to the pool.

All in all, the meadow is a most charming place; indeed, one of the most charming places the Doctor could think of, of all time and space.

But really, the thing that makes the Doctor the happiest is the expression of wonder on Rose's youthful face as she takes in the beauty. He could ask for nothing more as he shrugs out of his leather jacket and tosses it uncaringly to the side, still gazing upon his companion.

_Set just after "The Doctor Dances"_


	2. New New New Doctor

Rose's knees are curled up to her pink-clad chest, her arms wrapped tight around them. Her back is pressed firmly against the trunk of a tree, her chin resting on her legs, and the fluttering, light green leaves and the sweet-smelling blue blossoms all around her forming a most lovely sort of a cage. Rose's mind isn't quite as pleasant of a place to be just then, as she consideres recent events.

Meanwhile, the object of her musings lies nearby, in the meadow, the green grass a soft bed for a skinny frame, gentle breezes playing through long brown hair, and sunshine caressing his pale and freckled skin.

Pale and freckled skin. Long brown hair. Tall, skinny. All these adjectives are new to her when describing her - for lack of a better word - friend; previously, she would have said he had close-cropped hair, blue eyes and broad shoulders, and the leather jacket would, of course, have been mentioned. But suddenly, everything has changed.

A long time passes, and although the light is dimming, the beauty of the setting is undiminished. Stars begin to shine overhead and several moons, tinted a pleasing shade of light blue, reveal themselves in an inky sky. Finally, when all this has come to pass, Rose stands and makes her way out to the Doctor. He doesn't awknowledge this until she's standing above him, when he turns his head and smiles widely up at her. This smile is so unfamiliar, so disconcerting, that Rose cannot bear to look. Instead she settles her gaze upon the heavens, seeking recognizable constellations, as she folds her legs to sit, then lay, next to the Doctor.

"It's brilliant, isn't it?" she murmurs eventually, now turning her eyes towards him. He doesn't respond for some time, and when he does, it's with a question of his own.

"It's different now, wouldn't you say?" His deep brown eyes search hers, a crease in his brow betraying his worry.

"No!" Rose pauses after her exclaimation before adding, "Well, a bit. You're just so _different _now." She intented to go about this rationally, if even at all, but suddenly her emotions betray her and her watery eyes threaten tears.

"I'm not, really, though," the Doctor whispers, his eyes locked firmly on hers, which don't quite meet his. "I mean ... I still have all the same memories, the same feelings,"

"I know that, but I don't - I miss you, but you're right here. I miss you so much!" The Doctor is silent for a minute as Rose abruptly sits upright, putting her head in her hands. He wraps an arm around her and pulls her close before beginning to whisper in her ear.

He's careful to use a Northern accent as he recounts past adventures; Cassandra, 1869, Harriet Jones, Jack, the Game Station ... Eventually, Rose grows weary, and her eyelids flutter shut. The Doctor's warm, reassuring voice murmurs on, now telling tales of times long gone, of people and places he briefly knew. When stars wheel in the sky, and now he's no longer sure if he's speaking for her or for him. He talks about the burnt orange skies of his home, of how the TARDIS stole him, of planets filled with flowers, of dogs with no noses. And when his voice stops, he carries her down the shadow-filled path, the song of time beating in his pulse and winding its way into her heart.

She wakes up in her own bed to the smell of burnt waffles, and though she's can't recall much of which the Doctor spoke of, she feels alright again and she doesn't long for big ears and blue eyes. She hangs the leather jacket, which she'd been hoarding in her bedroom, in the Wardrobe. Then she dresses to go to New New New New New York with the New New New Doctor.

_Post "Christmas Invasion"_


	3. Mickey the Idiot

The night is quiet, lacking in crickets chirping or even the sound of the wind whispering through the trees, but for a young woman's harsh breathing and occasional muffled sob.

Rose leans against the Doctor's skinny frame, her face buried in his long brown coat, her hands pressed up against his chest. His arms are wrapped around her, holding her close, and he doesn't mind at all the black smears of mascara that cover his shoulder and chest.

They've been like this for quite a while, though sometimes Rose cried less, and sometimes more, as waves of pain lashed through her. More than pain, though, she felt guilt. Guilty for running off, guilty for ignoring him, guilty for falling in love with someone who wasn't him.

Her tears are slowing again now, though, so she sniffs a few times before peeling herself off the Doctor smiling weakly before trying to apologize. "Sorry, I -"

"Don't be," the Doctor interrupts softly, shaking his head, his deep brown eyes full of compassion, and their fair share of sorrow. He doesn't like seeing Rose cry - she's meant to be everything he's not, meant to be bright and cheerful and happy, through and through. It hurts and it feels wrong for her to be sad, and he'd do anything to make her feel better.

"It's just I - I never imagined that he'd ever not be here and I - I miss him and - and - and don't you dare leave me!" Rose finishes speaking quickly and once again buries her face in against his shoulder, throwing her arms around him as if she can keep him there. Which, of course, she can, but she doesn't realize this. The Doctor gently pulls out of her grasp, however, and when she refuses to meet his eyes, he takes her chin in one hand and slowly tilts her head up so as to gaze into her lovely hazel eyes, now shimmering.

"I won't," the Doctor promises, holding her gaze. "I won't leave you." His face grows cold and dark as memories of past companions - and countless others, like Reinette, who never got a chance - dance before his eyes. "Not ever."

She smiles, and it is this motion that causes the tears to spill over, tracing sparkling paths down her porcelain-pale skin. The Doctor caresses her face, wipes away evidence of her pain, and smiles gently before taking her hand in his. They lie down in the grass and gaze up at the stars.

_Post-Age of Steel_


	4. Heavy Hearts

The day is sunny, but also unseasonably cold. The sky is a pale, pale blue, and the air is crisp and clean - but to the east, there, can you see it? Storm clouds are rising, building, and the electricity already begins to crackle against their skin.

But they are not aware; they do not let themselves become aware. Because Rose has already asked him, and he lied. He told her that he wouldn't let anything bad happen to her, and she was now positive that nothing could ever separate them.

_"The Valiant Child will die in battle ..."_

"A storm is coming," the Doctor murmurs, his dark eyes fearful. Rose overhears, and makes a questioning noise in the back of her throat. He turns to look at her before offering half a smile and lying again. "Hm? Oh, just ... those storm clouds to the east. A storm is coming." He makes the comment seem offhanded, casual. Rose accepts this and moves on, the smile on her face never wavering.

_"The Valiant Child will die in battle ..."_

The Doctor takes Rose's arm and the walk down the path, no longer green, but a riot of red and gold colors which mercilessly bombard their eyes and beg for attention, attention which Rose grants easily. The Doctor smiles as she exclaims over the beautiful autumn colors, but his hearts feels heavy with worry for his yellow-and-pink human.

_Post-Fear Her_


	5. The Storm

The bare fingers of the once-beautiful trees point accusingly up at a stormy grey sky as thunder rumbles in the distance, and as the sun once again hides its cowardly face. The sound of his footsteps ring clearly through the silent woods; all living things have taken shelter from the fury of the oncoming storm, or have been scared away by storms past. Evidence of the weather is clearly displayed in the toppled willows, in the great gashes in the trunks of trees, the bleeding sap, and in the empty places where lightning ignited fires, which would have blazed for mere moments before, in turn, being doused by the torrential rain.

His hearts are more scarred can the forest can ever be, having sustained so many more injuries than could be possibly borne - yet, bear it he does, the only pain shown shining through dark eyes.

He walks down a familiar path, and ghosts laugh mockingly from his memories, just beyond his vision, fluttering down sunlit lanes with brilliant smiles beneath green leaves and blue sky. This is somewhere he knows, the way he once knew the feel her hand in his.

He reaches the clearing, now barren of any resemblance to life. The stream is dried, the pool empty. The once-sparkling cliff face is cracked, split into two. The grass is brown and prickly, the flowers blackened and dead. He gazes up at the sky, as it threatens rain, and relishes the moisture on his face when the threat is made good. It is cold, bitterly cold; freezing winds whip about him, the rain is nearly snow, and the sun does not shine.

The Doctor smiles.

_Post-Doomsday_


End file.
